Just In Time
by malfoyisawesome
Summary: Song fic. Dramione, Draco's POV. Song Just In Time by There for Tomorrow. There will be a sequel-ish from Hermione's POV, different song.


A/n – Bored, and wanted to write something quick without too much plot. First song fic, so cut me some slack.

There's smut at the end, just warning you.

Song: Just In Time by There For Tomorrow

--

_Something wrong with me_

_I'm not getting along with me_

His long, pale fingers raked through his hair, mussing it and sending it all over his face. The pointed nose of his childhood had disappeared, but the boy still looked a bit stuck up, to be honest. But his face held no smirk today. Cold, grey eyes stared forth at nothing, yet the wheels of his mind were turning at an incredulous speed. Thoughts flooded him, coming in through the hole in one ear and departing the next second through the other. It wasn't long before his brain started pounding incessantly, like the beat to a drum. He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head angrily.

For the life of him, Draco could not shake this feeling. A part of him had been ripped from his chest. His breath was even yet missing something: a counter part beside him. Turning over, his fingers splayed across the surface of the soft white sheets where she had laid all these past months. He had been stupid. Foolish. A complete prat. And here he was, facing his own consequences, the destiny life had written for him.

Many would ask how he could do something like he had done. A total betrayal on his part, he knew, and yet, he couldn't remember his thought process before hand. There had been girls before, and Draco had made similar mistakes, yet they had always been forgiving. They were so ready to accept his false apologies and allow him to fuck them again. He always did, without thought or question. Draco did what he needed to make himself happy.

But she had been different, for sure. He had allowed her to get the best of him, to absorb all of the harsh emotions he had felt his entire life and soften them. And so he had become dependant upon her, like a needy child. Angrily, he wanted to spit at the thought of how pathetic he had become. Every time she had ruffled his locks, ignoring his protests, his mind wanted to scream his love for her. Yes, he loved her, although those words had never left his mouth. He had wanted to tell her, to scream it to the world, like she had told him. Yet here he was, alone, the sheets cold, and he, left in his guilt.

_My eyes pasted on the ceiling_

_I can't get my mind to stop working_

The dull, lifeless look in Draco's eyes fell onto the ceiling pattern. It was nothing special, just painted a dull gold color, the color of Hermione's House, the color of her skin in the sunlight, the feeling of hundred bucks that he received from her whenever she glanced his way. It disgusted him, and he immediately felt sick. But he could not look away, because to look away would mean to look elsewhere, and elsewhere, there were memories. The room was filled with Hermione.

A shirt, thrown haphazardly on the ground the night previous, still lay there. Draco could not bear to touch it, afraid it would burn the fingerprint off his sensitive skin. A cup of tea, stone cold, was on the nightstand where Hermione had left it from a few days ago. The house elves did not clean their rooms because Hermione wouldn't allow them to do work. She always cleaned, while Draco watched. And as he watched her complete simple tasks around their "home" in the Head's dormitories, his mind would stray and he could imagine marrying her someday. She'd make an excellent wife he had to admit.

But the thought of being tied down had scared him terribly, and the subject was never breeched. Each time he considered striking up the idea with her, his hormones would kick-start and remind him of his more important needs. Draco Malfoy did not need to be tied down in any way; it was blasphemous! No, it was his desire to stay single for the remainder of his life… and now, fate had tied him, against his will, to this thought. Even if he wanted her back, he would not get her. This, Draco knew.

And the cycle of thoughts continued, as he attempted to avoid her material presence in the room, and avoid the gold ceiling.

_I knew all the blackest blues_

_You were all my favorite tunes_

_This was all I had to lose_

Sorrow washed over him, fading into deep colors as he closed his eyes to observe the black lids. Sighing again, Draco attempted to block out the world. It was difficult, however; the noises of students playing on the grounds just outside his window annoyed him making him sick. How could everyone be so happy, joyful, playful, while he was miserable, lying here in his own doom? His fists curled savagely, the fingernails jutting into his palm.

Draco was being pathetic, and he knew it. There would be someone else, someone better, smarter, funnier, prettier. But as much as he tried to convince himself of this fact, his brain rejected it immediately. Who was smarter than Hermione Granger? Not anyone in Hogwarts, that was for sure. Her humor, laugh, and smile simply lit up the room. No wonder all of the seventh year boys fawned over her mere presence. Their eyes gazed delicately at her, drooling, whilst cursing Draco in their mind. And her beauty was radiant, there was no doubt. It could be outdone, obviously, but nonetheless, his body ached for her soft skin.

In reality, Draco had been a fool to let her go and leave him to walk away for good. Although he had the soft comfort of knowing she would at least return to their quarters tonight, he would sleep alone. Her own room, rarely used in months, would become her place of residence once again, and he'd be left to his own thoughts on the soft linens that faintly smelled of her perfume, her shampoo. All he had ever dreamed of having in his life, gone, in a flash. On a wasted one night stand with someone who never mattered, and never would. His stomach turned.

The clock on the wall clicked by, painfully slow, a rhythm to his sorrow. His eyes found the solace of his eyelids again, and he breathed deeply, trying to find a calm. Peace. Anything.

_Tried out for size_

_To my surprise_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

As if it were yesterday, Draco could remember the first time he slept with a girl. It had felt so fucking real, and great, and amazing. He had been young then, just barely sixteen, and the Slytherin he had chose for the event was a seventh year, more experienced than him, bloody hot. He'd never regret his first time because she was damn good at what she did. The whole experience, by now, had blended together for him, but he knew he had been so pleased after he came that he thought of nothing else. That's when he became the man candy that he was.

Everything about that night, that day, that time, had been all pleasure. Nothing more. After the girl had graduated, they never stayed in touch. There was no affection, no emotion, during the entire process. Just a soft "Draco" as she climaxed, and that was it, it was over. Actually, Draco didn't think they had ever spoken after that. He searched his brain and could not come up with a situation in which they had exchanged words. Glances, yes. Words, not so much. It was best left that way, uncomplicated, unresolved.

But fuck, there had never been anything there. And the days after it, Draco felt empty. There was a hollowness filling him that he could never quite understand. Sure, he had enjoyed his first time and ached for more of the same, but he felt detached from everything. The feeling faded, and he never allowed it to show, but it was always there after he shagged a pretty witch. That feeling wasn't there with Hermione. It never dared show its' face after their first time. Was that why he felt so empty now? Now that she had gone, the emotions had been all drained. Well, it was a theory.

_No more disguise_

'_Cause I realize_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

There was a front Draco Malfoy always put up, to protect himself, to protect other people. No one wanted to hear his bitching and moaning, and why would they? It was trash, just nothing. It wasn't as though he was a completely different person with girls, but he was certainly more confident with himself. Even around his mates, Draco acted as though he were smug about everything he achieved. The walls were never torn down as a precaution; a warning for himself against the coming tide of hurt and pain that would eventually wash over.

The first person he ever opened up to was Hermione, and that was the god damned truth. Once he trusted her, and opened his heart up to her, the mask fell off in pieces. The wall lay crumbling on the floor, meaning nothing to him any longer. Of course, it was a long process. Hermione had deconstructed his wall stone by stone, and she had a lot of patience. She had wasted it all on him. He wasn't worth it; he knew it then, and he knew it now.

And now, he'd be left alone. He couldn't stand feeling sorry for himself, but there wasn't another girl that could hold him quite like her.

_Oh you, oh you left just in time_

Their blowout just a few hours ago was so overdue. He had been creeping around behind her back for months. Why he did it, Draco may never truly understand. It was something to do with being held down, controlled, like an animal, that he could not handle. Yet he enjoyed the affection and doting obsession and amusement Hermione provided. And of course, the sex every night, or nearly every night. She had been very good about satisfying him. Yet his appetite was never appeased, the thirst never quenched. There were other girls, he constantly told himself, that needed to be filled by him, and only him. That was his reasoning. Do the Hogwarts girls some favors before he left for good.

But he had been left first. Hermione had caught on, caught him, and it was over in mere seconds. The way the door slammed open into his room, the tears streaming down her face, was enough for Draco to understand. He could only whimper internally, preparing for the claws to come out. At that point, he had been trapped, literally, inside his cage. And Merlin, she had pounced.

Hermione had made her escape. He didn't blame her, he didn't beg. She didn't stay. The door clicked, and Draco had been in his restless sheets ever since.

_Should have known to turn_

_Get ahead of the curve but I've learned_

In all honesty, Draco was unsure when his "man-whore" status had originated, popped-up, came to life. True, it was fueled by the constant attention of Hogwarts girls, but he had always been a stud. His fingers could not count how many girls he had slept with, and if he tried, he probably could get far enough with his toes. But he had stopped right at the second big toe with Hermione; halted for a bit, stayed a while. That ought to have been enough for him; she sated his desire in a way he couldn't understand. So why didn't he stop? After all, she was the big toe, the most important, the first seen, the one counted upon for balance.

He positively knew what he was doing. There was no alcohol involved (although that's not to say there had not been before), and so he had no excuse. Why didn't he fucking ever learn? An amazing girl had walked right into his life, by mere coincidence, and he had let her slip through the cracks of his fingers, the spaces where hers had been laced mere hours ago. His palm lay open on the silver bed sheets, opening and closing impatiently, as if waiting for her to fill the void. She did not.

This time ought to have been the instance where he grew up, and matured, became a man, like his father would have liked. Lucius wouldn't have approved of Hermione, never in a million centuries, but Lucius had at least been a noble and respectful man to his women. Draco could not even give his girls the time of day. Where had he gone wrong in his life? Why couldn't he fucking push off a girl when she wanted him, walk away, and stop thinking about other girls? They didn't matter. But he couldn't be that man… he was still a boy.

_The failure sounds all too familiar to me_

_To just keep my mind to stop working_

Lying alone, the dark began to consume him, taking over the room steadily. The shadows from the window crept onto the bed, creating a black mass where Hermione should have been laying, next to him, breathing in sync. Shaking his head, Draco looked away, to the far wall, trying to find solace in the pure white. Nothingness. Inside, he felt a dread creep onto him. Tonight would be the first night that he would sleep alone in months. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be cold; her body always fired him up in a way he couldn't describe. The electric feel of her fingertips scorching his pale white skin always brought a blaze to his eyes.

By now, Draco was used to disappointment. After all, he had grown up with disappointments and the constant fear of punishment for his failures. There was to be no pity for him, not even from Hermione, but Draco always remembered the deep pain that accompanied the torture from his own father's wand. Consequences always followed his actions, this he knew. But Draco could understand physical pain, comprehend it, fight it, and accept it. But emotional pain was new, and it left a scar ripping across his chest, unseen. As though Hermione had forgotten to sew him back up, because she had.

Taking a deep breath, Draco blocked everything out. The sounds from outdoors had ceased, and he could hear the lapping waters of the lake pleasantly on the shore. The trees whistled in the wind. He popped his knuckles nervously, and inhaled the deep scent of lavender off of Hermione's pillow. This relaxed him, and he imagined she were here, as always, still desperately in love.

_I knew all the blackest blues_

_You were all my favorite tunes_

_This was all I had to lose_

His feet were on the ground before he realized where he was going. Tracing his way to the mirror, Draco looked up. He looked wrecked, to say the least. His hair was disheveled, and although his eyes were not red (tears never left them), they drooped in a way he had never seen before. Needless to say, he did not look very attractive right now. He fixed his tie, which was practically undone, and straightened the Head Boy badge on his sweater. His pants, wrinkled all the way down, could not be salvaged or changed. His mind was in overdrive, and there was no time.

He needed to take a chance, and it needed to be done as quickly as possible. What did he have to lose? His dignity was already shot to hell. And although his pride may suffer, he had a strange feeling in his chest that reminded him that Hermione was worth a drop in his ego. Not that a Malfoy ever begged; he wouldn't beg, per se. He would reason. And he would win. He always did.

Boots clicked on the stairwell as he made his way down to their shared Common Room. It was empty. He padded up her staircase, but she was missing from there as well. Sighing, he traipsed down the staircase again, angry now, and flung the portrait door open and entered the crowded hallway. Stares followed him, and he realized he must be causing some sort of scene. Every eye was upon him. People openly gaped but said nothing. Their faces blurred against the background as he shoved through them, hearing her voice in his head, a magical medley of her favorite words.

_Tried out for size_

_to my surprise_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

As he meandered through the corridors, attempting to find Hermione in a final plea for her forgiveness, his mind fell back to times before he had been with her. By far, the best shag of his life had been Pansy Parkinson. He had gotten to her before anyone else had, and before she became the Slytherin slut. Actually, the two of them were quite the pair. She shagged all the boys, and he fucked all the girls. It worked out really well. But before that even began, the two of them had had a very rough night.

And he meant rough in a very good way. It had been Pansy's first time, but she hung in there like a god damn champion. Best orgasm ever, at least for Draco. Up until Hermione, that is. Pansy was rough, allowing him to thrust fast, unevenly, and at his own pace, forgetting about his needs and struggling to fulfill her own. Both were satisfied by the end of the night, of course, and each got what they wanted. Draco would never forget the freedom he felt as he fucked Pansy, hard, and her screams echoed off the walls in his dormitory, his shallow breaths reaching the crook of her neck. He knew he cursed as he came, never allowing a pathetic moan to overtake him, but Pansy was louder than he imagined, and he loved it.

But it was different with Hermione Granger as he had expected it to be. She was soft, gentle, but allowed his curiosity to get the best of him. There was no roughness, nothing too hard, but Draco enjoyed the sensual feeling she gave him. And although Hermione was always a very pleased woman after a rousing night of sex, she made sure he got what he wanted first and foremost. And after she took him, whole, into her mouth and swallowed (like a good woman should, he thought), they curled up together and fell asleep. Pansy never allowed him that. It was hit and run for her, just as it was for him. That policy had its' ups and downs, but no one held him like Hermione.

_No more disguise_

_Cause I realize_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

He wouldn't pretend anymore, he decided. He wouldn't look away when she stared lovingly into his eyes and told him that she loved him; that she wanted to be with him forever. There would be no more of that. Because Draco had never admitted that he loved her, not to her face, at least. When she fell asleep, sometimes he'd whisper it, more to himself than her, and think of what those words actually meant. He still didn't know exactly, but they were the only words that could describe his feelings for her, and explain the hurt that filled every organ of his body right now.

And so he wouldn't lie to her by saying nothing. There could be no fakeness in their relationship, if it were to continue. He'd be honest and straightforward and tell her that when she left, he felt worthless and alone. Never before had he thought about letting loose in such a manner, but it needed to be done. The words that were left unsaid would fill his brain forever and force him to explode someday, if he didn't allow them access to free air, to breathe, to live.

Draco knew it was time to be a man, and throw off the false illusion that was boyhood. He would do this for Hermione, he promised himself.

_Oh you, oh you left just in time_

Giving up, Draco resigned himself to look over the grounds very quickly before heading back to his room to pout some more. His eyes made a sweep of the near-dark lawns of Hogwarts, and he spotted a lone figure, sitting with their back towards the castle, under a tree near the lake. Their tree. Where Hermione and Draco had spent countless evenings, talking, laughing, playing, fucking. Quietly of course, discreetly. But it did happen. He broke into a run, his crumpled pants brushing against each other, creating a rugged sort of noise that he enjoyed. His breath came quickly, but he reached her in time for her eyes to glance up at him.

He had made it. Sooner or later, Hermione would have left. It was chilly, even in a sweater, and Draco could faintly make out goose bumps on Hermione's flesh. He didn't have a jacket to offer her. He had nothing to offer her, except his guilt. His pride, his apology. Lay it at her feet, and hope for the best. At least he had gotten to see her, before she locked herself away in her room, alone and apart from him, ignoring their shared pain through stone walls.

No one was leaving this time.

_As the light_

_Darkens again_

_I lose myself within_

The night was so close, and she was so close, and Draco couldn't move. It was as if he were paralyzed in fear, or anxiety, or just the sheer fact that she was standing five feet in front of him but the words wouldn't come out. Everything was zipping through his brain, and it was all there, but none of it could make it towards his tongue. The words were lodged in his chest cavity, still not able to make it up to his throat to be set free, let loose, to soar and fly to her ears and make themselves known. In his mind, his vocal chords were constricted, and he felt trapped inside his own body.

There was no recognition in Hermione's eyes; just a dull, brown color that reflected the coming of the darkness. It killed Draco inside, to not be able to see the lights flickering through her deep pools. The night swallowed the two of them whole, and no one from the castle would be able to make out their existence on the lawns any longer. They were truly alone. Alone, separately; alone, together.

_Cause in the end_

_Still I'm reminded_

_Still I'm reminded_

Draco found that he could not forget the last words that she had uttered to him, simply, so full of passion and hatred that he had staggered back. He had released her then; she had turned to go, and he had allowed it. Because he couldn't imagine how hurt she had to be in order to defy him in such a way.

"I trusted you." With defiance in her eyes, those simple words had allowed him to comprehend that his side of the fight was worthless, pointless, hard fought but for no use. Hermione had turned on her heel and bounced from the room, slamming the door so hard that the frame seemed to shake with her anger. Yet here he was, ready for round two, his hands taped up and his mind back in the game so as to not lose this round. There could be no ties. Draco would win her or lose her, no middle ground. This, they both knew.

But her final words echoed in his brain each time he attempted to talk, a memory that would haunt him. Shaking his head, he looked at her, sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders and lifting one foot off the ground, then the other. Nervous. Still she stared, saying nothing, until, "Well?"

_Tried out for size_

_to my surprise_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

The words were bubbling inside his throat, and he tried to catch them, circling saliva around them as they reached his tongue. Everything would jumble and tumble out the wrong way, as always, his words would be scrambled and incoherent and more hurtful than he had designed. Draco needed to prevent this confusion, head it off early, and talk slow and clear and calm so Hermione understood how serious he was. So she knew that he had sat in his room all day into the evening and thought about what to say and how he felt and how he had never been so in tune with his own fucking feelings before this. Feelings he never knew existed in his body until now.

Every seemed so lame. He couldn't say he was sorry, that was too artificial and normal and rehearsed. Struggling, he reached out to grab her hand but she didn't move, and he let his fingers fall through the air to his wrinkled khaki pants, sighing.

"I fucked up, Hermione." His hands felt through the strands of blonde on his head and settled back on his sides.

"Is that all you came here to say, Draco, because I already knew that."

White anger spread through his body but he choked it back down, desperately trying to salvage what he had left of sanity in his brain right now. His foot, his entire leg, twitched in anticipation. "No, I came here to tell you…"

She tapped her foot. And the words wouldn't come.

_No more disguise_

_Cause I realize_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

Draco straightened, trying to sort out the thoughts that ran wild like deer in his head. This whole idea seemed stupid to him now; she was too angry, disappointed, it was too soon. He kicked his boot into the dirt.

"I don't know why I'm here. I… Hermione, I know I cheated but I just can't say no. But every time it happens I feel like -"

"Are you saying this has happened more than once?"

He took a deep breath. He was really swimming in deep waters right now. "Honestly, yes. But I was going to stop. It was going to end. Because I realized that no one really gets me like you get me. And I know now that you're special to me, and I've sat in that fucking room all day just thinking about how beyond messed up I am but you saw through all of that and gave me a chance and I never really understood until now."

Her hands were on her hips, like they bloody well always were when she was about to start fighting. Then she smiled a bit. "You remember the last time we shagged, Draco?"

He cocked his head to the side. It had been last night, obviously he remembered, he remembered every time he got inside her because it was a fucking excellent experience each and every time. "Yes. Of course."

"I hope so. Because it's never happening again."

_Tried out for size_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

It was like every other time, last night, except each time was new, exciting, better. Draco gasped as her fingers, cold from the frost of the outdoors as she watched him fly at Quidditch practice, touched his bare skin. Her fingernails scratched down his stomach gently, leaving no mark but turning Draco's entire body rigid. Her mouth replaced her hands, trailing small kisses down his body to the waistband of his Muggle jeans. Unzipping his pants and tossing them off urgently, Hermione smirked as she enjoyed her feeling of being in control.

"Don't look so smug, Granger," he warned, letting out a small groan as her fingers felt their way inside his boxers and gave him a little squeeze. His boxers, too, were lost in a haze of lust until she dipped down on him and he was lost in white, hot pleasure. Her hand assisted her as she took him in and out of her mouth, and he did everything he could to not shake and scream out. Her movements were painstakingly slow, and Draco's hand reached out to her head, tugging on her hair in his urgency.

"Calm down, boy," she teased, her tongue flicking against the tip of his head before sucking him long and hard, her tongue pressed up against his dick and he was losing it, quickly. Hermione sensed his coming orgasm and worked harder, her head bobbing faster and allowing his hand to roughly shove her onto him at his own pace. The two of them raced to his orgasm, him ready to explode and her prepared to take the shot. Finally, Draco lost it, shaking and letting out a deep, contented sigh as Hermione swallowed him and licked her lips.

She fell onto her back, smirking at him confidently, already unbuttoning her top and exposing her chest. Becoming hard again, Draco helped her out of her clothes, throwing them haphazardly to the floor in their hurry. He was inside her in record time, thrusting slowly so Hermione could adjust. She moaned lightly, a sign Draco took as to go faster, and he pumped into her with faster strokes, their hips rocking together, bringing them both up, up, higher than ever before.

She was trembling much quicker than he was ready, biting her lip, and Draco knew she was ready to lose all control. Her smugness had evaporated into the atmosphere that was full of sex, passion and unsaid words, and she was at his mercy, just as he liked. He slowed down, prolonging her anticipation, and although inside he was aching as well, he smirked despite it to show off his control. Hermione whimpered, and Draco pulled out all the way.

"Please," she begged, and he smiled before thrusting into her as hard as he could. She screamed, and he worked over her at a decent pace, their heart rates about to burst out of their chests. He could feel her tighten around him, and he nibbled her ear, whispering, "Wait for me". He could see her struggling to do this, but she flipped him upside down and rode him, doing all of the work for Draco. As soon as he was beneath Hermione, he could feel the orgasm build inside him, and his trembles and shakes alerted her, setting her nerves on fire. The two of the climbed and rode their orgasm together, panting out of control until she collapsed onto him.

That's when Draco eyes shot open and he remembered where he was. And he was very, very hard.

_No more disguise_

_Cause I realize_

_I can't fit in anybody's arms_

This did not go by Hermione's notice. "You're sick. Look at you, Draco. You can't go two seconds without thinking of me and sex."

This wasn't entirely true, but she had gotten him on this thought process, she had made him think of last night and how miraculous that shag had been, how great she had felt tightening around him. But that wasn't why he cared for her, or why he was here. Draco had not lain around in bed, staring at the gold ceiling that reminded him of the flecks of light in her brown eyes, simply because he liked the way she fucked him, although he did. It was because he loved her. He bloody well loved this girl and she needed to know.

_Oh you, oh you left just in time_

_You left just in time_

Paying no attention to her comment, he stepped closer to her and she didn't move. Neither of them took a breath for a long moment, as Draco searched longingly in her eyes for that look she always got when he was around, as though there was no one else. In the back of her skull, it needed to be there, but he couldn't find it, and his heart dropped to his stomach, and his stomach wanted to heave it out and place it in her hands, where it belonged, safe. And the words would come up too, like vomit, to explain himself and why he was here.

"I love you." The words hung there. "I'm sorry I never said it before, because I just realized it, but I've felt it for a long time. And I'm sorry I'm making you doubt it by everything I do. But I do love you."

Hermione took a deep breath and their eyes disconnected, and Draco knew what was coming but still, neither of them spoke the truth. The wind rustled the trees but the air around them stood still, as if there were a bubble protecting the peace around their two bodies, alone and separated; alone and together.

"You should have told me before, and now it's too late." Blackness surrounded them, but maybe it was just Draco's eyes closing so he wouldn't have to see her as she took the first steps away from him. "I'm leaving now. I left just in time."

--

Well, that was fun! Much more fun than I imagined! I'm going to do a companion song fic to this, from Hermione's POV. So that should be out in a few days. Yay for reviews?


End file.
